Double Shot
by thefictionalwhistler
Summary: Roxas's daily to the coffee shop takes an unexpected turn and the barista serving him looks like he would be up for a joke. Anyone with facial tattoos is certainly up to no good. / Akuroku fluff.


Roxas hadn't exactly taken notice of the barista behind the counter. He went in, exact change in hand, grabbed is latte and left. That was all he was willing to do at seven in the morning before the caffeine seeped into his veins and made him ready for the day of classes ahead.

No, he didn't notice much before then. Not much the same could be said for the barista. Two coffees and one espresso shot in by he time the blond arrived, the barista was on full alert, taking in all his surroundings. So it was no surprise when he noticed the boy the first morning he made his stop.

Double shot medium latte. $4.35.

He always had exact change. The barista would make the drink, offer his greetings as he handed it off and the boy would wave and walk out, not more than the four words out of his mouth. As regular as it was for Roxas to make his stop every morning was, it was for the barista to expect him to stumble through the door. It had become something on an infatuation over time. The barista had made up a story for the boy. His name was Travis Hudson, he had a pet bulldog named Frank. He was in pre -med but his real passion was his band named The Graphic Haddix where he played the trumpet. The barista had tried talking to him, but the boy was clearly a drone in the morning, his focus solely on his coffee. But then he had an idea. That morning the barista did as he always did, took the order and made the drink he had quickly memorized. Finishing the latte, he topped the drink with a bit of art, gracefully lacing the drink with the number five across the top. He handed the blond the drink and he took it and left. Now he had to wait to see if it would work.

Roxas looked at the latte as he received it. The barista must have very little talent with latte art to make it look like a five, but it all tasted the same with the lid on. Capping it off, he made for the bus and off to school. This would continue on for two more days. This barista clearly enjoyed making the fives and maybe it was a joke he had no part in.

The barista, he began to notice, certainly looked like he would be up for a joke. His hair, a blinding red, was tucked haphazardly into a hat, strands falling down his back. His face was home to an array of piercing and anyone with facial tattoos was certainly up to no good. Roxas did as he usually did, taking the latte and left. When he took his seat at the bus stop, he took a look at his drink but instead of seeing the five he had come to expect, he was greeted with a 2-9 etched in his drink. He looked around dumbfounded. He had not expected this turn of events. Before he could make a decision of what to do, the bus pulled up and he left.

The next morning, he went into the coffee shop with odd determination. He could not remember the last time he had been this awake and ready in the morning but he wanted to be sure he didn't miss a thing. He walked into the café confidently, offing up his $4.35 willingly and hopped over to the end of the barista machine and awaited his drink. When he peered over the huge appliance, he was disappointed to not see the redhead making his drink but another barista instead. He took his drink with less vigor, looking at the dark message in the foam.

3-5.

"Okay…" Roxas eyed the drink quizzically.

"Do we have a problem?" The barista asked.

Roxas was becoming impatient. "The redhead," he said firmly. "He's been putting these numbers in my drink all week. Are you all in on some joke or what?"

"From what Axel says, I'd think you'd have more brain than that." The guy mumbled.

"What?" These were not the answers Roxas was looking for and he was going to be late for his bus.

"He told me to put these last two numbers in your drink. I think it's his digits. You give him a ring if you want to know." The barista walked away to help other customers leaving Roxas, again, dumbfounded. Latte in one hand and his phone in the other, he punched the numbers into the dial pad and clutched it up to his ear as he ran to the catch the bus.

The other end picked up after a short ring. He had been waiting.

"Took you long enough. I thought you'd never catch on." The voice on the other end sounded groggy, half asleep. Roxas didn't know what to say, let alone why he bothered to call the stranger. He remained silent.

"The name's Axel. And your next double shot is on me."


End file.
